Welcome to Crazy-Town
by C.D.Wofford
Summary: Sam and Dean take a job at a private school in Florida to investigate multiple ghost sightings. Not everything is as it appears however. Could it be that the real danger is coming from an unexpected quarter? A religious campus can hold dark secrets, and something is preying on the minds of students. The Winchesters go undercover as visiting pastors...what could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So, I was in class the other day -at my frankly terrifying school- when my teacher mentioned in passing, as a sort of annoyed joke, that our classroom had a poltergeist. Weird things happen in that classroom a lot, even during class, and she was irritated. But it got my mind whirling of course. Our school has a lot of secrets. A lot of bad things have happened here; we even have a few ghost stories. I mean, what a perfect excuse for the boys to come check things out, right?**

 **Disclaimer: the boys are only mine in my daydreams.**

"Bobby said this girl called him, right? She reads Chuck's books apparently; probably got the number from Becky somehow. Anyway, she's freaking out, says there's a haunting at her school. But get this: all the events she is describing don't line up."

Dean squinted at the road, listening to Sam lay out the facts. The Alabama swamps were giving way to firmer ground and swaying palm trees the closer they got to the Florida line.

"What do you mean? You think she's making it up?"

"Bobby doesn't think so. So the first thing she described was this girl in a white dress. She wanders the halls, apparently sits at the top of the stair tower in one of the girls' dorms, her hair covering her face, whispering gibberish and rocking."

"Creepy."

"Right. But then a friend of hers was working a night shift in another building and had an encounter with a male apparition in a bloody hardhat. Air grew cold, burst of wind, whole nine yards."

"Ok, so ghost Bob the Builder."

"Sure. But she also mentioned some sort of evil in the dorm walls, poltergeist activity in a classroom, and some sort of weird occult rituals? But it all sounds legit the way she describes it."

"So what're we looking at, a major haunting? Like a bunch of baddies all at once?"

"It looks that way. The question is why? The place has perfect records." Sam scrolled through the information pages, and checked local news site archives. "No foul play, violent deaths, scandal...I can't find anything since the school was founded in '74. It's just decades of glowing reports."

"Well, nowhere can be that perfect. Yes. I mean, _yes!_ It's about time we had a case at a college. Frat girls, man. Parties." Dean glanced over at his brother and raised his eyebrows with an eager, teasing smirk. "Right? And I mean there'll be stuff for you to do too; geek out at the library or study club or whatever. I'm gonna check out the blonds."

Sam rolled his eyes in the passenger seat as he filled out the visitor pass information they'd need, registering their arrival with the college.

"Dude, it's not that kind of school."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam turned the computer screen toward his brother as proof.

"It means it's a religious college. Like, really religious. It used to be that they wouldn't even let girls and guys use the same sidewalks. So I don't think you're gonna have much luck in the girl department. And get this: there were two new rule changes in the last few years. Wanna give it a wild guess?"

Dean's face had twisted into a look of disbelief and disgust as Sam was talking.

"Wow. Crazy-town. What, are you serious? Aw man, why'd we have to go to a prude college, huh? Why can't we get a job at a party school? Oh guess, right...um...co-ed elevators?"

Sam grinned smugly, shaking his head.

"No, actually. Still separate elevators. And stairwells. And parking lots and garages. Give up? Headphones and beards are now allowed, within the regulated guidelines."

Dean took his eyes off the road and halfway turned toward his brother.

"What? This is fake, right, this is a joke?"

"No, not really. Parents send their kids here because the school is squeaky clean. I mean, I kinda see the appeal; you don't have to worry about Johnny getting hooked on drugs in college if there are room inspections and enforced curfews. Looking at the rule book, it's like airtight. You'd have to be a freaking genius for anyone to get away with anything."

"Oh, get away with anything like walking on the same sidewalk as a chick? It's a prison. We are willingly walking into prison. Please tell me you did not sign us on as students."

"No actually. According to the rule book we would both have to cut our hair short as students."

"For the love of-"

"-I said we were visiting pastors."

 **Author's Note: So...what do you think? What could possibly be causing hauntings at a college that's so perfect, if a bit...um...conservative? Just to be clear guys, fun fact - all the ghost stories and all the rules having to do with the school are totally real. Actually if they see I got around their internet censoring to get on this site, I'll be in big trouble. SO I'll post as often as I can and hope I don't get caught. ;) PLEASE COMMENT! It'll help me survive this place.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hi guys! Back with chapter two. So it turns out me and my roomies almost got busted tonight for watching Gilmore Girls. It resulted in some quick impromptu acting to pretend we were working on a paper. Anyway, disaster avoided but adrenaline's high and I'm not sleepy. So it's time to write! Oh, shout out to Kathy! Thanks so much for leaving a review; makes my whole day!**

 **Disclaimer: still down own nothin'.**

Dean whistled as the Impala slid up to the security stop at the college front gate. "See? Prison. Guardhouse. Guard. They have cameras everywhere, man. It's a freakin' compound."

Sam gave him one of his fed-up looks. "Don't be so dramatic. Schools have to be careful now, especially with all the shootings and crap that's been happening. Try to behave."

He rolled down the window and flashed a charming smile at the security guard who walked up with a clipboard.

"Can I ask your names and the reason for your visit today?"

"Yeah, I'm Pastor Coven and that's Pastor Harding; we're here representing our congregations to see if this ministry is something we'd like to support."

"Doing the Lord's work," Dean chimed in, leaning over to look up through Sam's window with a smile that was too fake. Sam shot him a glare.

The guard nodded, writing down the information quickly.

"Alright, head to the Admin building, info desk. They'll get you set up with your rooms. Hope you enjoy your stay."

Dean didn't waste any time getting through the gates and onto the campus. Sam ran a hand through his hair, checking to make sure it was staying in place combed back. He didn't want to draw too much attention.

"Are you seeing this? Unbelievable." Dean threw his hands up in the air as the sidewalks and street were suddenly flooded with hundreds of students hurrying in different directions. Class had just let out. "Skirts. Every girl is wearing a skirt...what is this, Little House on the Prairie?"

"Dean, you have _got_ to pull yourself together, okay? Some people have different values and belief systems than you, and honestly? You have to realize that's fine. These kids _want_ to be here. They're paying for it, and they're getting an education. Good for them."

"Yeah, well something's rotten around here or we wouldn't have a job. Just think about that, college boy. So once we get out of the seething crowd of skirt-wearing book-zombies, what's our next move?"

"Well, we'll check in at the desk and find our rooms. And then we should talk to Dee, the girl that called Bobby. Get her to show us where the sightings happened."

"I'll bring the EMF reader. And a few salt rounds. This place already gives me the creeps."

Sam shook his head in exasperation, looking out the window at the beautiful well-kept campus, the large, expensive buildings, the students all immaculately groomed and dressed. And he wouldn't admit it even to himself, but it did make him a little uneasy. Everything was just a little bit too perfect.

The head pastor of the college was waiting to greet his "colleagues" when they arrived; a short little man with a wealth of snow-white hair and a ready smile with rather unfortunate teeth that seemed difficult to speak around. He chatted eagerly about the various ministries and church activities the students were required to attend every day as he escorted them to the special guest house reserved for traveling pastors.

"Well I hope you enjoy your stay, and I greatly look forward to introducing you in chapel over the next day or two and hearing your sermons."

Dean's smile faltered.

"...Sermon?"

"Why yes; we like to offer the students fresh faces during morning chapel whenever we can, and pastors like pulpits with a captive audience, so it's a win for everybody." He chortled at his own joke and shook both their hands. "I'll see you tomorrow. 10:00 sharp, now."

Dean wiped his hand on his shirt and swallowed hard as the door closed behind the old man.

"Did you just sign us up for a revival gig? Are we gonna work the case, or do you need to study for your sermon?"

"Shut up, we'll find a way to get out of it. Now come on, there's a coffee shop around campus somewhere and we'll meet Dee there. And Dean? You're a pastor. No checking out skirts."

Dean smirked a little.

"Hey, as an old nun in Maryland once said: I can look at the menu, I just can't order." Sam just raised his eyebrows and Dean's smile disappeared with his good mood. "Fine. I'll be a literal saint. Let's go, Father Brown."

 **Author's Note: So I realize this story's sort of a slow burn, but it'll speed up, I promise. Gotta set the stage. And what could that perfect, innocent, private-school front be hiding? Whatever it is, it has both boys on edge. Is Dean overreacting, or is Sam too much of a college proponent to realize something's not right? Next chapter coming soon. Comment and review! LOVE you people!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: It's the Sunday before the last week of classes...I should be cramming for finals, but I'm trying to fit in as many updates before the precious weekend is over. Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Trigger Warnings: From here on out there's going to be talk about depression, suicide, and a mention of self-harm. If this upsets or triggers you in any way, please don't read!**

The smell of brewing coffee pervaded the second level of the Common Building, lending its ambiance to the quiet sound of students murmuring together over their notes, the soft rustle of pages turning, the low but constant presence of instrumental hymns being broadcast throughout the area. Sam's eyebrows traveled up his forehead as he took it all in; the muted decorative tones and dim lighting, comfortable couches, even a fireplace along one wall. He traded an impressed look with Dean as he reached the top of the stairs behind him.

"This place is _nice,"_ Sam said. "I mean _really_ nice."

"Yeah, guess they aren't hurting in the donations department. That our girl?"

Dean nodded toward a blond girl sitting in a corner away from other students, near the fireplace. Her feet had been tucked up under her flared red skirt on the couch, but she'd untucked them now. She was watching the two of them, looking as if she wanted to come greet them but was unsure if they were the right people. Sam nodded to her and as they got closer they could spot a "Team Free Will" button on her massive, battered backpack. She waved awkwardly, smiling.

"Hi. You guys visitors?"

"Sort of. You're Dee?" Sam asked, extending his hand. Her stiff posture immediately melted and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Yes! Yeah, I'm Dee. Sam and Dean, right? Wow, I'm so glad you guys are here. You have no idea. Thanks so much for coming...you guys under cover?" She glanced between the two of them, taking in their suits and ties.

Dean offered his patent lady-killer smile as he offered to shake her hand as they all sat down.

"Pastors Harding and Coven. Happy to help. You wanna tell us what's going on?"

She looked at his hand and then shook her head a little, looking embarrassed and apologetic. She glanced toward the other side of the room where a man with a yellow lanyard was standing alone against a wall, scanning the area.

"Sorry, I can't shake hands. It'll get me in trouble."

Dean looked like he'd just swallowed something disgusting and put his hand into his pocket.

"Oh yeah, right. Silly me, I'm sorry. I forgot it was a sin to be within three inches of the opposite sex."

"Dean," Sam said, sharply, under his breath. The girl just grinned widely though.

"I know," she said, lowering her voice, "I totally agree. Because who knows what awful immoral sins we might commit at two or -horrors- one and a half inches." She nodded sagely. Dean smirked. "You know what," she continued, "I don't wanna talk here. Too many eyes and ears, right?" She gestured toward the yellow lanyard man. "It'll save time to show you. Walk and talk?" She picked up the eighty pound backpack and slung it over one shoulder, and she was off down the stairs.

Dean grinned at Sam as they followed.

"I like her."

Sam sighed wearily. "Of course you do."

She waited at the bottom of the stairs for them to come down from the second level, and then led them over the shining polished floor between the rows of indoor potted palm trees standing like pillars on either side of the doors that would take them out on the street in front of the girls' dormitory buildings.

"So, the dorms. Haunted, right?" Sam asked. Dee nodded. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully as they walked. He hadn't been able to find a single record of any deaths happening; they must be missing something. "Do you know of anything in the history of the building or even the school? Any reason a vengeful spirit might be wandering the halls?"

Dee snorted.

"There is a _lot_ of crap that goes down here. Doesn't look like it, right? What do you guys already know?"

"Female spirit, male spirit, poltergeist, and possible unidentified baddie in the walls. Close?" Dean listed. "But there haven't been any freak-show deaths or maimings, right, I mean that's a little odd." He looked to his brother for input. "You'd think with this much activity we'd have had at least one blood bath."

The girl stopped in front of the nearest dorm and turned to face them, slinging her backpack down to rest on a backless bench by a flowerbed brimming with purple and yellow flowers.

"Do you guys count suicides? They happen a lot here. It scares me; people I know have even tried. It's like a disease; we came back from break and everyone starts changing. A girl hanged herself in the closet, a boy shot himself; I...know people...who've tried to fit out of the dorm windows to jump."

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"You know people? Dee, have _you_ ever tried something like that?"

She swallowed, her face pale.

"Yeah. Once. The window doesn't open far enough though. I get these weird urges to smash my head against the wall or hold a plastic bag over my face...it's not me. That's not me. I don't think that way, and it freaks me out. I don't want to end up like the closet girl, so I called."

"We believe you. You did the right thing. You talked about evil in the walls...what do you mean? If we can figure out what it is, we got a chance of killing it."

She looked at the ground.

"It sounds nuts," she mumbled.

Dean ducked his head to try to meet her eyes, encouragingly.

"Hey, we do nuts. We do 39 flavors of crazy. What was it like?"

"I didn't see it. That's the thing. I was sitting on my bed doing homework and feeling fine and then it was there. All of a sudden. Like, I could feel this presence in the walls, and it was the ugliest, scariest...it was dark and evil. That's all I really know how to say. I didn't know where to look; I couldn't watch all four walls at once, and it started whispering things in my head."

"What kind of things?"

"Bad things. Like things I'm afraid of...things...that make me want to die. My vision got all dark around the edges, the dark creeping in toward the middle and going black, my hands and feet got icy cold and then numb and it crept up my arms and legs...I couldn't breathe and I was shaking so hard I almost fell off the top bunk. I thought that if the cold got to my heart, or the room got all the way dark...I would die."

Sam's brow was wrinkled in concern and he took a step toward her.

"So what did you do? What happened?"

"I uh...I told it to go back to Hell."

"And?"

"And...it did."

 **Author's Note: dun dun duuuuuunnnnnn...so what's up with Dee? What is the evil in the walls, and how did a college girl have the power to just...banish it to Hell? I guess we'll find out a few more pieces to the puzzle in the next chapter. Comment and review, peeps! It makes my life. LOVE YOU!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Hello all! So, it's been a heck of a Monday; my sandal-strap broke and literally fell off my foot and I went to classes with one shoe because I had no time to go back to the dorm and get shoes. XD Yay. But on the upside, I got to do some more research about campus ghost stories over lunch break by "interviewing" some other students, so I'm excited to write some more! Hopefully the chapters will be uploaded pretty quickly.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything and don't intend any copyright infringement.**

Dean blinked, Sam sucked in a breath. They shifted and traded glances; definitely not just another simple poltergeist or vengeful spirit. Dee bit her lip and looked back and forth between the two of them, anxiously.

"Just like that? Poof, it was gone." Dean sounded disbelieving and his expression wasn't much more encouraging.

Dee shifted, nervously, her cheeks paling and her eyes losing the spunky spark they had before. She looked afraid. But slowly she nodded, picking her backpack back up off the patterned brick pavement seemingly just for the purpose of having something to do with her hands. And maybe to avoid eye contact, too.

"Yeah...instantly gone. I could breathe, the feeling came back to my hands and feet, the lights were back on. Like a switch flipped." She spared a glance up and her eyes darted between the two of them. "Hey look, I have a class. I gotta go; haunted buildings there and there," -she motioned to a dorm tower and an auditorium- "have fun checking 'em out on your tour. I'm late." She shouldered the backpack she was fumbling with and hurried off, instantly swallowed in the now-rapid stream of girls coming out of the dorms on their frantic race to classes.

"Well, that was normal," Dean muttered, staring after her with squinted eyes.

"Yeah...and that's not creepy at all."

Sam jutted his chin upward, his face a concerned grimace as he stared at something, and Dean tipped his head back, following his brother's line of vision to a dorm window on the sixth or seventh floor of the nearest dorm. There, spelled in multi-colored post-its, was the word "HELP".

"Okay, I think we need to go on our little tour. Check out the auditorium with the EMF while we're there; after dark I'll get Dee to let me in the girls' dorm to see if I can run into the dead chick, and you can go after the construction guy."

"Dean-"

Dean held up his hands in surrender. "No girls, I promise. Wow, Sammy; I get no credit, I swear. I'm a pastor, remember?" He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.

"Fine. But if you run into that _whatever-it-is_ in there, you get out, alright? Until we know what this thing is we don't need to engage it. Especially alone."

"Right, right. Let's get going. Looks like our tour guide is waiting." He offered a fake smile and raised his hand to a young man in a suit and a wide, dazzling smile who was crossing the road from the Common Building to meet them.

The sun was setting over the campus, framing the palm trees in sharp black silhouette against the flaming jewel tones of the sky. Sam was sitting outside on a bench waiting for Dean to finish getting Baby settled in the guest parking for the night -Security was abnormally particular about parking spaces- and calling Bobby to fill him in.

"Bobby? Hey, it's Sam. We're on campus now; the EMF went nuts in the poltergeist classroom and the auditorium. The dorm is gonna be more tricky but we'll check it out later."

"So I guess that's a yes on the vengeful spirit thing."

"I'm not so sure about the vengeful part. I don't know, Bobby...something's not right. They haven't hurt anyone. I mean they've been freaking people out, sure, but they haven't actually made any moves that we know of. Apparently all the recent deaths -which are really hush-hush, by the way- were suicides. Kids jumping out windows, stuff like that."

"You guys have any ID on the mystery spook?"

"Actually we were hoping you could help with that. She said it was invisible, was whispering her darkest fears into her head, and made her feel like she was going to pass out or something."

"Or something?"

"Die, actually, is what she said. But she said she told it to go back to Hell, and it left."

"She a witch?"

"I guess Dean can check her room tonight when he goes into the dorm for hex bags and stuff, but I don't get that vibe. We have another problem."

"I'll add it to my list," Bobby said, sarcastically. "What is it?"

"Well, the school is so obsessive about a good image...I can't even find any records or news stories about suicides or violent deaths online in the history of the college. From like, ever. My guess is they're covering it up by buying off the families and media; they really aren't hurting for change. But it's gonna make it really hard to ID the ghosts and take care of them if we can't even find out what happened. Something tells me Dee isn't gonna want to talk about it."

"I'll see what I can find," Bobby sighed, and Sam could hear the _pop_ of a bottle being opened in the background and a heavy book falling open on a desk. "In the meantime you boys keep your nose clean. Maybe talk to the angel; if it's a religious school we might be dealing with territory we're not as used to."

"Good point. Call if you find anything."

"Keep me posted."

Sam hung up and slid the phone into his pocket as Dean joined him on the terrace. His brother looked livid.

"Security stuck a friggin' _sticker_ on Baby. Two of 'em, actually. A dumb little palm tree-"

"Dean. Focus."

"Right. Flashlight? Salt rounds. Knife." Dean listed out the items as he discreetly took them from inside his suit jacket and handed them to Sam, who pocketed them away. "Meet you back in the room by 5:00 am. If we see anything it'll probably be before all the religious faculty and staff get up at the crack of dawn to pray or whatever so that should give us all the time we need. Buzz if you need me."

And the brothers parted ways, Sam heading toward the massive, dark hulk of the auditorium building and Dean trying to keep the spring out of his step as he made a beeline for the girls' dorm.

 **Author's Note: Fun Fact- the "HELP" sign in sticky-notes was actually something I saw in the dorm window the other night. By the time I got back out there with a camera it was gone, so. Probably just a finals joke, but of course it goes in the story. Comment and Review! Anybody have any guesses what the mystery baddie is? Cas makes an appearance in the next chapter, so keep your eye out. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: My goal is to wrap this puppy up in ten chapters or less, so things are probably going to speed up a little from here. My list of fanfiction ideas for other stories is growing so long I created a whole document just to keep track of them; I can't wait to start taking them out! It feels so great to be back. *Back in Black by ACDC plays in the background* I used to be on a regular posting schedule of Mondays and Fridays; I may try to get into that again. We'll cross our fingers and see! I feel like this baby is gonna insist on being updated every day until it's done. ;)**

 **Disclaimer: The usual, not makin' any money from this. Wish I was. XD**

The last few girls hurried through the doors into the dorm lobby as the campus bell tower toned and ominous, brassy knell for curfew. Dean watched from his post behind some decorative holly trees as the security team on a fleet of segways rolled through the streets patrolling, and visited each dorm building to lock them until the next morning. He pulled out his phone, holding it close and shielding it with his hand so the glow wouldn't give away his position. The screen showed 10:15. He sighed and scrubbed hand over his face. Dee was supposed to sneak down and let him in at midnight, after all the room inspections and mandatory prayer meetings, and lights out was in effect. An hour forty-five to go.

"Awesome," he grumbled, under his breath. The holly kept jabbing him through his suit jacket whenever he moved; those leaves had some nasty little spines. And he had come to terms with the fact 20 minutes ago that there was no chance of finding a comfortable position in this hiding place. He was beginning to wish he'd saddled Sammy with this job; at least the auditorium wasn't patrolled and guarded. Sam was probably inside already.

"Dean." The voice behind him came with no warning, and Dean whirled, sticking the barrel of his ivory-handled Colt .45 in the face of an unperturbed angel wearing the ever present trench-coat with the trailing belt. Dean closed his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face as he doubled over waiting for his heart to slow down.

"Cas. Great surprise. 'Cause you know I just love those friggin' surprises," he growled sarcastically, still trying to catch his breath. Castiel cocked his head.

"I was under the impression you disliked them."

"Yeah, Cas..." Dean answered wearily.

"Oh. Right. You were joking. It was very funny," Cas agreed, robotically, nodding his head.

"Forget it. What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you word. There is a disturbance in the spirit realm, and some very powerful entities from Satan's side are roaming free. It could be that the nearing Apocalypse has released them."

"What, the thing in the walls?"

Castiel nodded, seriously.

"One of them may have come to this school as its hunting grounds; whatever it is in there, it is not a human spirit, restless or not. It's a spirit from Hell."

Dean was nodding, listening attentively, eyes fixed on Cas's face in the gathering dark. "Okay, great; you know about it, tell us what it is so we can gank it."

"I do not know which spirit it is yet. Only that he is a kind you have never encountered. But Dean, be...safe. If you find him, run. Your guns and knives will have no power against him."

"Wow, thanks for the pep-talk, coach. You know me, I'll do what I have to." Dean grinned, but suddenly his eyes widened as he looked at something over Castiel's shoulder and he dropped into a crouch, pulling Cas lower with him before he turned to watch the security guard roll more slowly by, peering into the foliage. Dean held his breath until the segway hummed away, and then let out an exasperated sigh.

"That was close; see, I'm telling you Cas, this place is a friggin'..." he turned around, and Castiel was gone. "...Prison," he finished. "Nice to see you buddy, thanks for _dropping in."_ He rolled his eyes but then straightened as he saw Dee walking toward the doors through the glass walls of the lobby. She glanced around, then opened the doors and leaned out, beckoning him in. He wasted no time in crossing the exposed brick area between the landscaping and the entrance and slipped inside with her.

"Sorry for the wait," she whispered. "I had to be sure none of the RA's were still prowling around."

"'S fine. How about you show me where the dead chick hangs out? Good place to start." He offered her a flirty smile and she turned away seeming sort of annoyed. He had caught the blush dusting her cheeks, though, and smirked to himself as he followed her through the narrow fluorescent-lit hallways of the girls dorm to the stairwell. The temperature dropped ten degrees or more when they opened the door and started up the grey, concrete cinder-block stairs, spiraling up for stories. Dean leaned over the railing as they started up, peering as far as he could toward the top.

"Are the stairs always this cold?" he asked. Dee shrugged.

"There's no AC in here. So it depends on the weather."

"Hey, is there anything you wanna tell me about what you told us earlier? About the uh, snapping your fingers and the spirits of Hell obey, kinda thing?" he asked, pausing on the steps behind her to watch her reaction. She glanced back at him but didn't slow or stop the climb.

"Ten bucks says you guys wouldn't believe me."

"Gotta say, sweetheart, that line's getting real old."

She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, fine. I don't think it could get me, because, well, I have a bigger Spirit inside. God."

Dean stopped again.

"God." He sounded completely disbelieving. She smirked and held out her hand.

"So I won that bet; you don't believe me. Where's my money?"

He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

"I'll pay you back in the form of dinner out when we get this mess cleaned up. Eating is allowed at this school, right?" he joked. He didn't believe her. At all. But she was cute, especially in yoga pants and a tank-top. He was rewarded with a laugh.

"Sure, just not off-campus and not with guys. But tell you what, we'll talk about it when the ghosts and the creepers are gone, okay? You do owe me ten bucks after all...shhh. Hear that?"

Dee froze on the stairs, looking up. They were only one or two flights from the top, and soft whispering could be heard wafting down, echoing and shifting off the cold concrete. She met Dean's eyes meaningfully.

"She sits up at the very top, by the locked roof access. People say they locked that door because she jumped off." She was whispering now, herself. The stairwell grew colder and their breath could be seen in the air in a silvery jet. Dean moved past her on the stairs, pulling out his handgun with the salt rounds and hurrying up the last few flights, Dee close behind him.

"There she is," he murmured.

The form was a thin girl, her skin white with a greyish tint, her wealth of entangled black hair falling forward so that her face was hidden. She sat on the floor in a white gown that looked like a nightshirt, barefoot, rocking and whispering to herself. Dean stepped closer, trying to make out the words. She didn't move, didn't look up or acknowledge him. He glanced at Dee.

"Stay back. She ever talked to anyone? Hurt anybody?"

Dee was staring at the specter, her eyes wide as saucers. She shook her head.

"N-no. I don't think so. I mean, put a few people in mental institutions, sure..."

Dean squinted at the ghost. He took another step closer when suddenly her head snapped up, her dead, unseeing eyes boring into him, wide and frantic. She stood up, reaching out a hand to him, and whispered more frantically, but her words made no sense. She kept shaking her head, the dark mane flying with her vehemence.

"What's she saying?" Dee asked, panic making her throat a little tight. She wasn't going anywhere though. Dean kept his gun trained on the ghost, backing up a step.

"I don't know-"

The image of the girl flickered and vibrated. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and the nearest fluorescent bulb shattered. Dee ducked to the floor and covered her head, and Dean fired the shot. The blast of salt erased any stain of the ghost on the air, for now.

"Well, we know she throws a hissy-fit if you don't get her message," Dean said. He looked over at Dee and offered her a hand up. "But still, she didn't try to hurt us."

"Then why'd you shoot her?"

"Look, when a ghost is mad, they go vengeful. Then blood happens. Then more ghosts. See the problem here? So we shoot." He winked at her. "No biggie. Something tells me we hurt her feelings though; she probably won't be back tonight. Let's-"

"Dean!" Dee pointed to the metal door leading to the ninth-floor girls' hallway. Scratched by invisible fingernails in the grey paint, were the numbers 1:7. Dean's brow lowered in concentration as he stepped forward and touched the message.

"Well, she gave us a hint. How thoughtful." His watch beeped and he looked down at it. "I have an hour until I'm due back at the room with Sam. You cool staying in the dorm another night?"

Dee arched an eyebrow at him. She was a bit pale and shaky but her attitude hadn't gone anywhere.

"Not like I have another choice. I've been dorm-mates with ghost-girl for months, so what's one more night? I know this is the part where you like to comfort the petrified female, but I'm good."

Dean nodded. He grinned at her.

"Spunky. I like it."

She snorted and started down the stairs in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." She was grinning though, even though he couldn't see it he could hear it in her voice. "I'll meet you and Sam for breakfast tomorrow, okay? The cafeteria is across from the chapel."

Dean felt a gag coming on at the remembrance that he was expected to give some kind of sermon the next day. THAT just wasn't happening. But he picked out on what he wanted to hear and grinned, hurrying down the last few flights to the ground floor.

"Breakfast, huh? On campus? With two young and incredibly good looking _male_ pastors?" He winked, slyly. Dee's lips were parting to retort as she pulled open the door from the stairwell to the ground floor hall, but whatever she was about to say never came out. Two doors down, a cacophony of screams rent the air.

 **Author's Note: Sooo, what's the ghost trying to say? How's Sammy faring with Mr. Bloody Hardhat? And what is happening on the ground floor? Shout out to Shazza19 and to Kathy again! Thanks for the reviews guys. Getting comment notifications really boost my morale! LOVE YOU GUYS!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hey there folks! So I realized I skipped a day or two, but in my defense I had a four-hour test for Nursing school that was kinda stressing me out. I'm back now though! Chapter 6! I'm really excited and flattered at the follows and favs this has been getting guys; thanks so much for putting your time into reading it! Really makes my day. *heart***

 **Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit. Well, I profit emotionally, but that's only fair. ;)**

Dean's automatic response was to lunge forward, gun ready, bounding toward the sound. The door banged open from the inside and a girl in shorts and an over-sized tee-shirt bolted out, eyes wild and face ashen. She pushed past Dean and bowled right into Dee, who caught her shoulders, her own heart leaping in her throat.

"The devil's in there!" the girl keened, her voice shrill and choked with terror. She snatched out of Dee's grip and tore off down the hallway. Dean spared a glance after her and pulled out his knife, stepping toward the dark doorway, more cautious now. At the same moment, a ripple of energy shook the black he was looking into, physically fracturing it as if it were a substance. It rippled out into the hallway, absorbing all sound and sucking the air from the atmosphere. Dee fell against the wall, gasping, as the fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered from the aftershock.

"He's gone," she murmured, shuddering.

Dean squinted into the dark doorway, motioning for Dee to be quiet and stay back. A steady stream of indistinct whispers could be heard inside the dark dorm room. He stepped in, weapons ready, and flicked on the light to find three girls huddled together on one bed. One screamed at the sudden flood of light. He went to the window and looked out, then sweeping the room for any hex bags or sulfur.

"Is anybody hurt?" he demanded. "What happened?"

One of them brushed her messy red hair out of her face, swallowing and regulating her breathing as they all calmed down. She glanced around the room one more time before answering, as if assuring herself it was really safe.

"There was something in our room. I thought it was Channing over by the window. I asked her what she was doing out of bed. But she was in bed. We all were. Whatever-it-was stood up and turned around; it was this dark figure as tall as a person, but it's eyes were...um...they were glowing. Liz ran."

"Yeah, and what did you do? Why did it leave?"

"We just prayed."

Dean stared disbelievingly, but no other explanation seemed to be forthcoming, and the girls seemed to be completely in earnest. He tucked away the gun and the knife inside his suit jacket.

"Right. Right. Here, you see anything else you call me ok?" he handed them a card. "I like to know what's going on in the _spiritual_ realm." He offered them a little smirking grin.

"Who are you?" the one called Channing asked, coming out of her shock enough to realize that there was a _man_ in the dorm, and a gorgeous one at that. "Aren't you like a pastor?"

Dean chuckled, moving toward the door. He had to get out before the actual security arrived in response to the screams and found him at the scene. But he stopped in the doorway and turned around to wink at them.

"Just a man of God doing the Lord's work," he said, and then hurried into the hallway, taking Dee's elbow. "Hey, let's go. You got a back door?"

Dee bit her lip, and then seemed to make a decision, whirling and heading in the opposite direction from the doors they'd come in, back to the stairwell. She grinned.

"Yeah, there's a back door. It'll set off fire alarms for the whole building; I'll burn some popcorn and then say it was me. Happens at least once a semester. The mobs of evacuating people should be good cover for you and Sam to get back to your room without drawing attention for being out after curfew, but try to make yourself scarce quick, got it?"

"I won't be too far away." He winked, and then shoved open the seldom-used emergency as the fire alarm began to scream and doors to bang as sleepy college girls stumbled out of their rooms with fuzzy blankets wrapped around them.

Sam was waiting on the lit foyer of the pastor guest house, looking somewhat concerned as he saw the girls' dorm light up and heard alarms ringing out through the night. He jumped when Dean appeared at his elbow from the darker alley behind the cafeteria. He walked right past Sam and into the room, taking off his suit jacket and tie and throwing them down on the bed, reveling in the freedom. Sam glanced back toward the dorms and the security segways zipping by in that direction and closed the door quickly. He pulled the curtains and turned to his older brother, expression tense and attentive.

"Dude, where were you? And _what_ was that?"

"Relax, Sammy, that wasn't me," Dean chuckled. "How was your luck with hardhat-guy?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair as he sat down at his computer; he'd let it down from being combed back all day.

"Ran into him on the catwalks. Bloody construction guy, full head of 80s hair, man."

"Well there's a hint for research."

"Right, that's what I thought. I did some digging when I got back here while I was waiting for you to show up; turns out there was an accident during the construction of the building. A guy fell from the scaffolding, smashed his head, broken neck, it was a mess. The school paid off the family to avoid publicity. Apparently he'd been having some depressive and paranoid symptoms in the weeks leading up to it."

"So we're thinking suicide. Fits the other vics. He say anything when you saw him?"

"He tried; that was the weird thing. It was like muffled. He was standing right in front of me but it was like he was talking through water, or a wall. I couldn't make out what he was saying."

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, same with ghost girl. Whispering, couldn't make it out. But check this out..." he took his cellphone from his pocket and tossed it across the room to Sam as he flopped back on the bed. He'd pulled up the picture of the scratched mystery number in the stairwell. Sam furrowed his brow at it and muttered a soft "huh," dragging out his own phone and showing Dean a photo of what looked like tar smeared on a stage.

"Same number. You think the ghosts are doing it? Trying to communicate something?"

"Well, they seem pretty keen to get something across; I guess that's a good start. I mean, it could have something to do with Mystery Spook. This guy has some serious juice; I'm wondering if he's why their voices aren't coming through...maybe it's trying to keep them quiet about something."

Sam nodded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, tossing his head a little bit to get his hair out of his eyes, considering this possibility.

"Did you see it? While you were with Dee?"

Dean shook his head, sitting up on the bed and reaching for a coke to pop open, since that was all they had in the room. He looked irritated.

"Came this close. It was in a room but it banged out of there before I got a look. The girls said a dark figure, glowing eyes; I have a room of college kids saying they saw the devil. Doesn't seem like Lucy's game though, does it? Not his style. Cas dropped in though, said it's definitely a hellspawn. Some kind of Spirit with a capital S. Just gotta figure out which one."

Sam nodded, agreeing, already typing search terms into his laptop based on the description.

"There's all kinds of stuff online about dark figures and glowing eyes. Pretty much anything supernatural has been described that way throughout history...let's try "Spirit 1:7" as the search..."

Sam sat back from the computer, his face showing his interest.

"It's...it's a Bible verse."

Dean huffed a laugh.

"Figures." He dragged the bible the room had come equipped with off the nightstand and flipped it open. "Guess it's time to do some pastor work."

 **Author's Note: They have a clue! I will write a oneshot based on a prompt from the first reader who comments with the correct Bible verse OR the answer about who the Big Baddie is. Have fun! Good luck!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, it's been a few days again. It's probably gonna be updates every few days or so now at least until I can get home and settled in for break. Semester ends Thursday; when I'm home I'll have plenty of time to write and post to my little heart's content, and probably binge a few seasons of my shows. Anywho, just letting you know not to panic, I'm not gone! Carry on.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything in connection with Supernatural except for the awesome playlist I'm putting together...but that's beside the point.**

The delicate, near-transparent pages of the stamped school bible crinkled and sighed in Dean's hands, as he flipped through looking for the passage Sam's search had brought up. He grimaced as the first page of Luke ripped halfway through as he tried to turn it. Sam closed the laptop and sat on the edge of the bed across from his brother, leaning forward impatiently.

Dean smirked, a grin of victory lighting up his face as he scanned the words indicated by the ghosts' messages. He turned the book around so Sam could see, tapping the verse.

"Those spooks were thinking outside the box. Big creep distorting their voices, not wanting his secret out; well they found a way around him. Look at that."

Sam squinted as he read the words, slowly. "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love, and of a sound mind...huh." He put down the book. "Spirit of Fear, huh? Never heard of him." He reached for John's journal, tucked as always inside Dean's bag, flipping through for any mention of something similar.

Dean took the bible back and scanned the verse again.

"Well, Cas said it was a Spirit from Hell. I'm thinking like the four horsemen? Biblical baddies have some kick, dude."

"Well, you're not wrong. It would make sense," Sam conceded, "If war, pestilence, death, and famine have their own entities downstairs then why wouldn't fear, honestly? I mean, if you think about it, fear can even be the cause of war, death, all kinds of human vice and tragedy."

"Dude! Fear. Dee said he was whispering her darkest fears to her; made her want to off herself, right? And what happened to the ghosts? Suicides. And those kids covered up in the last few months. Suicides, right?" Dean shifted, eagerly, fascination lighting up his eyes. "This holy writ seems to be saying a sound mind isn't exactly associated with Fear; it's given like a protective blessing against him. That's how he's killing."

Sam nodded, slowly, understanding and realization dawning over his face as he considered these possibilities. He stood up and paced back and forth, piecing together the story.

"So Fear gets inside people's head, uses their fears against them, insecurities, secrets, dread of the future...makes them feel helpless, and hopeless. They can't take it anymore, feel like they're going nuts, and he scores. Huh. Every time he takes another victim, he has more ammunition to feed his fear factory. The school covers it up but secrets have an element of fear all by themselves, and you know the kids find out. Stories spread, get whispered around. It's like a self-perpetuating fear factory."

"Wait, so that means ghost McGuiver and Lady on the Stairs aren't part of the problem. They're trying to warn people; telling them to get the heck out before the same thing happens that happened to them."

"He lets them appear but not speak; seeing ghosts adds a nice touch to the fear factor," Sam said, "but no one would know the real reason behind anything. This is a great place for Fear to set up camp. The whole environment is full of potential. A totalitarian religious school, where every aspect of life is regulated and watched...Dean, I talked to some kids earlier while you were registering the car. The school has spies to follow kids when they go off campus."

Dean stared at him.

"You're kidding."

"They have a court system, interrogations, everything. The authority presence is really heavy, and when the students are under stress from coursework anyway-"

"That's it, I've heard enough. We have got to get back to America," Dean said, flipping the bible closed and tossing it down on the bedside table. "I'm done. So what do we have to do to gank this thing?"

"Best guess? Ask Castiel if he has any buddies by the names of Power and Love."

"I am not doing cherubs again, Sam. Anything but the Cupid guy; I'm scarred for life."

"Love is not a cherub, it is far more ancient and mighty. Love and Power are one and the same," Cas' gravelly voice chimed in, and suddenly he was sitting on Sam's bed, the trench-coat pooled around him. "They are part of the Trinity."

 **Author's Note: Sooooo the boys are getting a little out of their depth, huh? But nothing they aren't up to facing. Sorry if this chapter was a little exposition-heavy and pretty short; I'll post more when I have more time! Love love love and kisses to everyone who reads and reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Well folks, finals are OVER and Christmas Break has officially begun! So sitting in my living room surrounded by three Christmas trees and lit Christmas garlands, swallowed by a deliciously massive sweater, I'm opening my Christmas season by indulging in a nice long writing session, working ahead a bit on my stories. Merry Christmas to you all!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Dee. Heh.**

"The Trinity. Like the three-in-one, right?"

"Power equals the Holy Spirit, must be the Son." Sam's face registered his recognition.

"What?" Dean asked, his voice gaining a rough edge. "I'm a little rusty on church stuff but that's God. You're talking about God." Dean squinted at Castiel, hoping he'd heard wrong. "You know how much luck we've had in that department. Nothing. None. I mean if it wasn't for all the other stuff we deal with every day, I'd even say He wasn't out there. And if He is, He sure as heck's not easy to reach."

Cas was nodding in agreement, waiting for Dean to stop talking so he could communicate his next thought.

"We have not been successful, no. Not in speaking to Him face to face, or seeing Him. But people all over the world are able to experience Him through their faith. My vessel is a prime example. It is in the will and operation of the Father to bestow some of His power on those of devout and honest service."

Dean stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to look out. The girls' dorms lights were flickering off, and everything seemed to be going back to normal. He took another drink of his coke and glowered at the security guard passing in the street outside with the annoying buzz of a segway. He jumped and stiffened as a hand was laid on his shoulder. Cas was at his elbow.

"Dean. I understand your reluctance. You have been too often disappointed in the past." Cas's voice was softer, quiet. "I wish I could tell you I knew why He has been so elusive. But I have to believe He favors you...favors me. After all we have come through, it is nothing short of a miracle. A sign of a Power far above that of the angels, or all the might of Hell."

"Then where is He? Huh? Tell me, Cas. My brother prayed _every night_ our whole crappy lives. If anyone in this cursed family deserves to hear from God and get a few favors from upstairs, it's Sammy. Why doesn't He...what's He doing?" Dean looked over at Cas, taking his eyes away from the window and meeting his friend's eyes for the first time over the last few minutes. Sam sat quietly, watching them.

Cas didn't look away or break eye contact. He looked Dean squarely in the face, honesty evident in his face and voice when he answered.

"I don't know. But I know there is something we have not exhausted yet. That is faith. It has been a force to be reckoned with throughout history; perhaps it isn't time to give up on just yet. Let's not write it off."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Sam interjected, a slight gentle smile shaping his lips as he tried to lighten the mood within the somberness of the moment. "I mean, those girls and Dee have been resisting Fear. It works. Doesn't seem like too much of a stretch that if it really is God giving them the juice, He can do the same thing to send Fear out of here for good. I know we haven't exactly had a lot of healthy spiritual experiences; I get it, man. I do. But look, I kind of want to believe there's a chance for this to be real. I vote we give it a shot."

Dean hesitated, looking between Cas and Sam for a moment. Sam raised his eyebrows in a hopeful, encouraging "well?" gesture, and Dean rolled his eyes, the moment over.

"Oh for- Fine. Fine, fine, you win. We'll try. But you better stand in for the chapel thing tomorrow because giving this thing a chance doesn't mean I'm turning preacher-boy."

Dean pulled away from Cas's hand and flopped down across the bed. Sam shot Cas a covert nod and an approving grin. Castiel inclined his head in answer and turned toward the door, and with the rush of unseen wings he was gone. Sam closed his laptop with a click and stood up, gathering his things off the table and tucking them under his arm. Dean's head popped up.

"Where are you going?"

"To the other room."

"Why?"

"Because we are supposed to be two unrelated pastors and we have a cover to keep up. We have the whole guest house; I'll just be one room over."

"Ok. Goodnight Reverend Samuel." Dean flopped back over, face smashed into the pillow, not even bothering to undress or unmake the bed. Sam snorted, knowing the use of his full name was meant to irritate him. But after the conversation earlier, he couldn't really be annoyed

"Sam! Rise and shine, man, breakfast closes in fifteen and Dee saved us a table."

When Sam opened the door Dean was grinning smugly at him, a bible tucked under his arm and his suit freshly ironed. Sam squinted at him suspiciously. His misgivings were confirmed when Dean smacked the bible into his chest, along with an envelope with the college stamp on it. It was the instructions for the ordering of Chapel.

"Church is at 10:00. This was part of our deal. I give this a chance, you get to address the masses. Now come on, I want a biscuit or something."

Dee waved at them when they came into the crowded dining area and motioned them toward a table she'd saved with her ID card. She winked at them and motioned toward the coffee dispensers nearby.

"I got us a good seat. Right by the jet-fuel. You guys learn anything last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll catch you up," Sam said, sitting down with a steaming cup of burnt coffee and rubbing his eyes. The whole public-speaking thing was giving him a massive headache. Breakfast passed quickly, Dean eating and filling Dee in on their hunch while Sam read the instructions for where he was supposed to go and when to go onstage.

"Hey, I have an idea," Dee said, "you guys should camp out in the Display Room today. We have recruiters and stuff that come through there to talk to students and make contacts; it would be a great place to set up shop if you want to interview some kids. I mean if Fear is here, and the school is such a great environment for it, don't you think that might be connected? I mean with one of the big shots? Worth sniffing around, anyway. Since we can't go sneaking around until after dark again."

"Sweet, sounds like a plan. I like it. Wow, have you guys tried the egg burrito bowl? It's awesome."

Dee grinned at Dean.

"Actually, everybody is clearing out. You guys better head over to the church. I'll see you there! Looking forward to it."

Dean chuckled, standing up and putting his suit jacket back on. He was enjoying this way too much. Sam hadn't touched his breakfast, and pushed the plate away looking like he felt ill. He stood up and took a deep breath, offering a nervous grimacing smile to the college girl and smoothing his hair back one more time.

"I guess we'll meet you after...just uh, just text us. I gotta go."

Dean winked at Dee behind Sam's back as they parted ways. This was going to be good. The old church coordinator that had greeted them the day before and shown them to the guest house was waiting for them backstage. He offered them the smile that made it almost impossible to look anywhere but his unique dental situation, but his eyes were darting back and forth between them behind his bifocals.

"Pastor Harding, I'm really appreciate the willingness you've shown in sharing with our students; I know it'll really make a difference in all of their lives." He grabbed Dean's hand and shook it heartily. Dean's eyes widened a little and he looked over at Sam, panic beginning to well up inside.

"Uh, no, I think Pastor Coven's got this one. Right? He's much better with crowds and...such." Dean's wide smile couldn't mask his sheer terror from Sam, who turned slightly away to hide his own smirk. The coordinator was shaking his head.

"Oh, yes, Pastor Harding will be able to stand up and tell the students about your ministry; they'll like to know if you will be in the Display Room later to recruit. However we do have certain standards of personal appearance on the campus and we like to comply with them from the pulpit. Just a show of support for the college."

Dean swallowed.

"You mean his hair. His hair's too long."

The coordinator patted his shoulder and smiled, opening the door and ushering them out onto the stage to sit in the pastor's seating until the music was done.

"I'm sure whatever you have prepared will be of benefit to the students."

Sam handed Dean the bible, stifling his amusement and relief for Dean's sake, mouthing a "good luck". The coordinator announced and introduced them, and Sam easily spoke a few words of nonsense about some kind of summer camp needing volunteers. And then it was Dean's turn.

He walked slowly up to the podium. Five thousand students stared back at him; the lights were bright and hot. The auditorium was impossibly huge. He grinned and choked out a weak little chuckle that died halfway out of his mouth. "Uh, yeah, great to be saying the Lord's stuff today, right?" There was a very long silence as he tried to search a totally blank mind for something that would sound alright. His mouth was dry. "Today we're going to talk about booze. Don't drink it. It's not holy. It's only worth it if you can avoid a hangover, so...stay clear. Although if you do go for it, there's this brand of… you know what, I was kidding. Never tasted it. It's the devil's stuff."

Sam was grimacing up toward the ceiling, massaging his temple, though Dean couldn't see him from where he stood. Dean seemed to be unable to stop once he started.

"But actually is it really though? Because I'm pretty sure that wasn't fruit punch at the Last Supper."

The tension in the room could suddenly be cut with a knife. At that interminably long moment of silence, Dean's phone began to ring, an ACDC riff. He answered it quickly with the words, "family emergency" mumbled quickly in the microphone. It was Dee.

"Tell them your wife's in labor or something and leave. Everyone will cheer and the faculty will be spared the torture of listening to this." There was a grin in her whispered voice. She must be sneaking the call from somewhere in the audience. "Hurry up; there's new information and we need to talk."

Dean looked shocked.

"Really? Hang on I'll be right there. Guys, you're dismissed; my wife's in labor. Stay in school kids!"

Sam and Dean made a quick exit as the masses of college students roared a cheer at being dismissed early and began the stampede to get out of the building and grab a coffee before their next class period. And the coordinator sat dumbfounded on the stage. It wasn't entirely clear if he was about to have a stroke, or had already suffered one.

 **Author's Note: So this chapter was a bit longer! Yes! Also we got to see a little bit of Dean's issues and Cas being a good friend. Let me know what you guys think! I'm not practiced at keeping them in character yet but I want to get better, so any constructive criticism is appreciated! Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: Hey guys, so sorry it's been forever. I promise I haven't given up! Still plugging away when I can. Reviews and comments still help me keep going, get uploaded faster! Love you guys! Sorry again it's been like months. :P Here goes.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't own them. But a girl can dream...**

"So what's this new development you mentioned?" Sam asked, running his hands back through his hair to help it stay. It was beginning to start falling into his face, and as Pastor Coven, he couldn't allow that. The Florida humidity wasn't doing him any favors.

Dee nodded and tried to refocus.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. That Chapel was like the highlight of my life, so thanks. Moving on." She tucked her little smile away as she pulled out a leather journal and flipped to a note page near the back. "Okay, so there's been another ghost in our building."

"What, besides ghost girl and Bob the Builder?" Dean asked, squinting. "There's a lot of action going on here."

"Yep. This one has a name. Ian, apparently. He's been messing around with kind of harmless stuff like knocking stuff over or moving things around the rooms. But last night, all the ceiling tiles in an upper-floor room were turned sideways, things were in different places, and 'Ian' was written on the mirrors. At first it was just written off as a prank, but now…" she left the rest unsaid, but gave Sam a meaningful look and a shrug. He nodded.

"Okay, so whatever is going on here seems to be gearing up. It's like a supernatural hotspot; ghosts popping up on the scene all over the place. So we know the Spirit of Fear or whatever is the big-league player here, right? Well, maybe he's recruiting. Makes sense; if more fear means more mojo for the Boogey-Man, turning the campus into Halloween Town isn't a bad play," Dean suggested, lifting the bun on a burger he'd got from line seven to check out some suspicious-looking lettuce and taking it off before digging in.

Sam's brow furrowed in thought.

"Well, yeah, but why? Why now, and why here of all places?"

Dee looked up, stirring a pinch of salt into her black coffee to take the edge off.

"Yeah, I mean it's pretty much run by church people. Wouldn't it be hallowed ground? Ghosts can't operate there, right?

Dean looked impressed and she blushed a little, but Sam was already moving on.

"Well, yeah. I mean I guess so. You'd think from hearing them talk anyway. It's weird."

"Maybe someone's letting them in," Dean said, taking a fry off Sam's plate. He wasn't eating it anyway. "I mean, un-hallowing the ground, if that's a thing. That chapel guy gives me the creeps, man, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he was in on it."

"What, the chapel coordinator? Nah, he's a harmless, cute little old man," Dee said, but she looked uneasy. "Is that really a thing? Un-hallowing ground?"

Sam shrugged. "Well...yeah, I guess it's possible. Not permanently; as long as the church is here and the religious practice active, and even after that, it's hallowed. But if someone with some kind of 'spiritual sway', let's say, invites something in, keeps the back door open...whatever came in would have to have permission to stay, but yeah, I'd say it's feasible."

Dee pushed her plate toward Dean, suddenly losing her appetite.

"Great. So someone is actually working with the spirits. As if this place wasn't scary enough already."

Sam was poring over the visitor's packet, reading the brochure about the Campus Church. He looked more interested and laid it down on the table, indicating a headshot of a smiling, friendly-looking bespectacled man in a suit.

"Guys, get this. Recently the church leadership changed hands. What would it have been, like a year and a half ago?" He looked to Dee for confirmation. She looked troubled, but nodded.

"Yeah, the old pastor retired and Pastor Jeff was voted in."

Dean pulled the brochure over to him to study the photo.

"Yeah, that guy was onstage for a church announcement or something. Some kind of pancake jamboree. _Jamboree,_ who uses that word? I could have sworn he was hiding a laugh when we were leaving. Not very in keeping with the whole stiff-upper-lip pastor thing. When did you say the weirdness started?"

Dee looked kind of white.

"Maybe around then I guess? Nothing big at first, just creepy subtle stuff. Really ramped up last semester, but...you think it's him?" She looked at the picture with misgiving. "I thought for sure he was one of the good-guys."

Sam offered her an apologetic look.

"Well, maybe he was. But if he's behind all this, he's acting dangerously and we need to stop it before anyone else gets hurt."

She nodded, still not looking very happy as Dean folded up the brochure with an air of finality and slapped it back down in front of Sam.

"Okay, so we thinking we're gonna need the demon blade, or the witch-killing bullets?" Sam opened his mouth but Dean plowed ahead. "Good thinking, both. We'll pack both. You know where his office is, Dee?"

"Dean, whoa, pump the brakes!" Sam said, holding up a hand. "We have a lead, not proof. I think we should take today to talk to people, see if anyone's noticed anything, look around some. We need to find out if any other major staff changes happened at the same time. Once we know, I'm right there with you, but we aren't shooting someone on a hunch."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine. Ugh." He tossed the cafeteria hamburger down on his plate in disgust. " _That_ is sacrilegious. Let's go."

…...

"Thanks so much for showing interest, and if we think you'll be a good fit we'll call you," Sam said, "Thanks again. Have a good class." He rubbed his face as the twelfth student walked out of the display room. They'd been here for two hours and while they'd talked to plenty of students, mostly all they'd gotten was kids that didn't appear to know anything about _anything_ and were actually interested in the "camp outreach" opportunity the boys were supposedly offering.

Dean was sitting in one of the chairs, with a handful of candy from one of the vacant other display tables in the room, working his way through them and looking somehow simultaneously bored and smug.

"This was a _super_ idea. Oh, I think that one was a real keeper, Pastor."

"Shut up. You could at least pitch in."

"Oh, I will. Just as soon as someone hot walks through that door. All that frustrated manhood that keeps coming in here is stressing me out."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, man."

Dean's response was never heard, because at that moment a young man in a blue suit and orange plaid tie entered, immediately dominating the possible conversation with his too-loud, over-confident spiel. Every time there was a seeming pause he would immediately begin the next sentence with an obnoxious increase in volume and force so no one could get a word in edgewise. Dean's eyes widened and he motioned toward the kid as if to say, "case in point."

"Good afternoon, I'm Patrick. Pastors Harding and Coven? Hear me out here. My father serves on both faculty and staff here at the college, and I was raised in a heavily ministry-focused environment. I have extensive experience in music and ministry leadership, while thriving in the nursing program."

Behind Patrick, Dean rolled his eyes. The kid was still going strong.

"I would say all of those areas are really strengths of mine. Strengths a ministry like yours could really benefit from, if you chose to bring me on board. Definitely qualities that put me a cut above the rest. I'm the best decision you could make for this camp, especially if I'm put in a leadership position."

Dean held two fingers to his temple and proceeded to mime shooting himself.

Sam was blinking under the veritable barrage of self-praise. He glanced at Dean over Patrick's shoulder and couldn't quite hide his amused agreement with his brother behind the signature Sam Winchester annoyance. Apparently the kid had deigned to allow one of them to respond now, because it had finally stopped.

"Ah, well, your qualifications sound...very impressive," Sam said, grinning a little. "So your Dad's on staff, huh? How long has that been? I know there's been some position changes in the campus church lately…"

"Oh, we've been here since I was born. Even when Dr. Zach was brought on as music leader when the pastors changed, my family has still held our positions. We're vital fixtures in the church and I believe that's important. I think we've been recognized for our devotion and commitment, that's what I like to believe."

Dean and Sam traded glances. Another major change in leadership; looked like Pastor Jeff wasn't the only possible culprit.

"Have you noticed anything strange, back in the choir practice rooms or loft?" Dean asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "We just wanna know how you handle unexpected circumstances," he added with a sarcastic, ingratiating smile.

"Oh sure, certainly. Well, every day when I get there for early for practice -I'm always early-" Dean muttered "of course you are," under his breath, but Patrick didn't seem to notice and dove ahead, "Someone's turned the decorative crosses in the rooms upside-down. I always correct them; I feel that a measure of professionalism and reverence is called for, and it's my place to enforce it."

Dean and Sam had both stopped listening at the bit about inverted crosses, meeting each other's eyes. They had the information they needed. Relief actually showed in Sam's face.

"That's great, champ, we'll give you a call. Thanks for your time, bye," Dean said, standing and ushering the kid out of the door, briskly.

"I can give you my contact information-"

"We know where to find you. Don't need it," Dean said, and closed the glass door, turning around to face Sam and shaking himself.

"See what I mean? It gets on you."

Sam gave that sarcastic, dry little huff that meant he thought something was mildly funny but either didn't really want to commit, or wanted to maintain his attitude.

"Yeah, no, you're right. Glad that's over. Sooo we got a lead. Choir-loft?"

"Choir-loft."


	10. Chapter 10

The small metal door around back of the hulking stained-glass and brick church structure was mildly misleading. Instead of a small service passage or maintenance closet, it opened into the cavernous choir loft. Sam stowed his lockpick away inside his suit jacket as he and Dean blinked, adjusting their eyes to the dim lighting of the big airy space.

"How many kids on this campus think they can sing?" Dean asked, looking over the rows and rows of chairs on the risers in the loft, facing a small raised platform for the conductor and a shining grand piano. Sam shrugged, flipping through the sheet music and papers on the conductor's stand, looking for any clues.

"Actually they sound pretty good."

"Wait, you know this how?"

Sam shrugged as if his shirt was a size or two smaller than was comfortable.

"Research," he murmured, a little defensively, Dean thought. He scoffed.

"Ok, choir-boy. Maybe you should audition."

"Shut up. Dean, look at this."

One of the sheets, slightly behind the others, had a dark smudge in one corner like a fingerprint in what looked like old blood. Dean furrowed his brow.

"That's weird. It feels kinda...planted. Don't you think? Who does a blood ritual and then flips through tomorrow's offeratory red-handed?" he said. Sam looked thoughtful, setting it back down and arranging them how they were.

"Yeah...exactly," he said, moving off to the little alcoves on the sides of the main room where the bright, blue-green choir robes hung packed together on racks. Dean grinned, taking one off the rack and holding it up.

"Sammy. They come in your size."

"Shut _up._ "

Dean turned back to hang it up, chuckling to himself, when something caught his eye. He squinted, shoving some of the gowns out of the way. Painted on the wall, bleeding down it in sickening streaks, was a sigil he'd never seen before, but he knew enough to tell that was some dark stuff. He took out his phone and took a picture.

"Sam. It's still wet."

Sam looked up quickly, reaching behind to pull the handgun from the back of his slacks. The metal rattle of a push-bar door being opened had them both backs the the wall, weapons ready. Footsteps moved closer, echoing oddly in the large space with the foam panels all over the walls. Dean's grip tightened on the 44 magnum he was packing. He traded a glance with his brother. Sam nodded.

"Stop right there!" Sam shouted, both of them stepping out, armed and ready. There was a startled yelp that morphed into an undignified scream when the stranger came face-to-face with two handguns.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Dean groussed. "Really?"

"Patrick?" Sam asked. The kid was picking himself up off the floor, shaking like a leaf. Dean glanced down and then up toward the ceiling, looking completely done, turning around and walking away. Patrick himself didn't seem to notice the wet spot growing on the front of his jeans right away, still gasping like he was about to suffocate.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, quickly putting the gun away.

"I was just practicing for leading the music in church tonight in the orchestra room...What was _that?_ " he asked, his voice breaking into falsetto. "Was that a drill? Are you guys cops? I thought you worked for a camp?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's part of the interview," Sam said. "We wanted to make sure you were a...pacifist. Great job." He patted Patrick awkwardly on the shoulder, pointedly trying not to look at the humiliating stain around the guy's fly and not really succeeding. "Good luck on your music leading."

Patrick looked down, horrified.

"I can't go up there like this! I don't have time to change…"

Dean had rejoined them, an ingratiating smirk on his face.

"It won't be too bad. You can hardly notice it and you'll be behind the podium anyway. Knock 'em dead. You better get moving, kid."

Patrick blinked rapidly, but didn't say anything, shouldering past them and hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders as he hurried from the room. They both watched him go and then Dean turned back to Sam, eyes wide.

"Okay. I can _smell_ the estrogen in the air. Literally. We are both taking silkwood showers tonight. And I think we can cross him off the list. Definitely not demon-summoning material."

Sam squinted, cocking his head a little to one side.

"Actually, Dean...that blood on the sheet music. It felt really planted, right? The sigil on the wall… it's like it was there for us to find. Freshly painted."

"Yeah, and the upside-down crosses? Those have been happening for a while," Dean said. "But the only person who tipped us off was that kid. Which means he might have been setting us up. But why would _that,_ " he gestured toward the door Patrick had left out of, "be messing around with stuff like this? And framing someone else for it?"

"He said his family has worked for the school for years. Maybe with all the power changes around here, he feels like they should have had some promotions or recognition. You heard him in the display room; he's got his hands in everything, trying to excel in everything, be the best. His whole life is run by being first. Can you imagine the pressure and fear of failure that would create?"

"So what, you're saying that he...made a deal with Fear so he could feel like he had some kind of control over it?"

Sam shrugged.

"I mean, it would make sense. And if he could cover his tracks by pinning it on the current music leader, if someone had to take the fall and it happened to be him, there would be an open space for Patrick's dad or even Patrick to get promoted."

"Freakin' church politics, man." Dean said, then smirked, trying so hard to control the grin spreading across his face. "You know the one good thing about the mandatory service? We get to see him lead singing with pee on his pants. ...No?"

Sam just walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! So I know it's been like months since I updated. But HEY, I GRADUATED WITH A FOUR-YEAR NURSING DEGREE, so it's okay, right? Anyway, I'm free now. Home, settling back in after the move, and job-hunting, so hopefully writing will be easier. If anyone is still sticking with this story from before, good on you! Huge shoutout; you've been so patient. Here we go!**

"Dude, we have to wrap this up fast. If I have to sit through one more service...and man can eat crappy bacon-cheese fries only so many times. There's nothing else edible."

Sam looked up from his salad, a wry twinkle in his eye as Dean sat down across from him with a heaping plate of heart-attack.

"What're you talking about? I thought you'd be in heaven if that's all you had to eat for the rest of your life."

"No, I need the basic food-groups: bread, potatoes, and meat. Burgers, man. Chili dogs. Freakin' mom-and-pop pizza. Real ones, I mean, not these...mealy fakes. And I need a drink, Sammy. We're grownups, for crying out loud."

Sam nodded.

"I actually hear you, there. The salad bar's not bad though."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Freakin' hippie. I'm ready to get out of Communist America, thank you very much. Speaking of that, Bobby called. School lets out in the next few days, right? Kids'll be leaving for the summer. Bobby figures if Pat and his Big Bad are gonna try anything game-changing, it'll be tonight or tomorrow night."

Sam nodded, all business once again.

"Right, well that would make sense. Fear needs an audience for his power to work. If all the kids leave, whatever they're planning would be easily covered up by the school before the students come back. The problem is, we don't know _what_ the plan is."

Dean leaned forward over his plate and lowered his voice so the giggly table of Korean students beside them wouldn't pick up on the conversation.

"Who cares what the kid's goal is, you know? He's playing with fire, and you can bet whatever Mr. Choir Nerd is trying to accomplish isn't on Fear's priority list. You know these things. Demons are tricky jerks, you can't put one of 'em on a leash. A big-leaguer like Fear has gotta be even worse. It's gonna be deadly. Why just scare a few kids and cause a few suicides? Patrick wants to pin all this occult stuff on the new music director, right? Double-crossing Fear and framing his own personal little rival at the same time. I bet you though, getting rid of the music director might be a lot more literal and a lot more bloody than Patrick is picturing."

Sam sat back in his chair, running his hands back through his hair that kept trying to fall forward out of his relatively conservative style. He took a deep breath and blinked once or twice, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, okay. So it's gonna happen tonight or tomorrow night, throw the whole place into chaos, start a chain-reaction of fear across campus. Depending on how bad it is, the graduation exercises might be rescheduled, keeping the kids here even longer. We gotta stop it, tonight."

The yellow-gold lances of sunset dappled the brick under the great sprawling tree that marked the center of campus, the spanish moss trailing gently on the breath of a nearly nonexistent breeze of sea-brine. Dee tucked her humidity-frizzed curls behind one ear in frustration as she struggled to organize her books and final projects in her purse as she juggled arms full of plastic-wrapped graduation regalia and two or three letters. Finally she got it all jammed inside and sat down on a bench, laying the cap and gown over the seat beside her and starting to go through today's mail.

"Heyyy, look at that! About to get out of here for good, huh?" Dean said, grinning at the mess of flowy black material on the bench beside her as his bow-legged saunter came to a stop in front of her. Sam's gaze lingered a little longer on the regalia with a strange look in his eyes. Something like a mixture of longing and resignation.

"Congratulations! That's amazing Dee. That's great. You going to graduate school after this, what are your plans?" he asked, his face lighting up with a genuine smile as he turned to her. She forced a gag and shook her head, firmly.

"Um, yeah, that would be a resounding _no._ They tried to rope me into two more years here, but with this crap going on? I mean don't get me wrong, having you guys here is pretty awesome, but a haunted school kinda sucks."

"Yeah, no argument there. Although I'd say any school kinda sucks though," Dean joked, winking at her. "Speaking of which, though, we're running on kind of a time crunch. We're thinking Patrick is the one messing around with Fear and ghosts. And we're thinking things are gonna get bloody. Like tonight. Do you have any idea how something like that might go down?"

"Yeah, it would be something with lots of visibility, probably with both staff and students…?" Sam added, ducking his head a little to meet her eyes since he was nearly two feet taller than the college girl.

She squinted, thinking, and then her eyes widened. She pulled out one of the envelopes she'd just been opening and handed it to them.

"The Senior's Supper on the Roof. It's like this fancy banquet for graduates. All the seniors go, the president of the college, and lots of staff and faculty make appearances. It's on the roof of the observatory building."

Dean and Sam traded meaningful looks.

"Perfect, this is perfect," Sam said, scanning the invitation to the dinner, "When is this?"

"It's uh, it's tonight. I was just about to go get ready...you guys gonna come?" She asked, looking between the two of them. She couldn't decide if she was excited or terrified at the idea.

"Looks like we're getting that date after all, huh? Right?" Dean winked, moving closer and smirking. She colored. Yep. Definitely excited, even though she kind of hated herself for it.

"Okay, I'll meet you outside my dorm in an hour so I can walk you over and show you where we're going. Do I need to bring extra salt in my handbag or anything? My roommate has some I think, and I could bring a bottle of holy-water."

Sam chuckled.

"It wouldn't hurt. But don't worry, we got this. See you in an hour."

An hour later the sun had gone down, giving way to a hot, starry Florida night. The occasional short, cool bursts of sea-breeze made everything feel exciting, like a storm was about to break, though a cloud wasn't in the sky. Dee came down out of the dorm building in a black dress that came to just above her knees, strappy black platform heels, and a little black handbag with her ticket and a few ghost repellents tucked away inside. Dean whistled when he saw her, eyes flicking up and down with a quick, appreciative scan. Sam elbowed him, shooting him the signature disapproving glare.

"Focus, dude. Not the time."

"Sam, have you _met_ me? It's always the time. This, little brother, is why your luck with women is legendary for not existing."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Ready guys?" Dee asked, tucking her bag under her arm while she ran her hands through her short, curled hair to make sure it stayed out of the way. "It's a few minutes' walk. You look...nice. Got what you need?"

"Don't worry sweetheart. I always show up packing," Dean grinned, quirking an eyebrow and opening his suit jacket to show her the guns hidden in the inside pocket and tucked into the waistband of his slacks. She giggled nervously and nodded.

"Oh. Well, good. Come on."

The closer they got to the observatory building, the thicker the crowds of well-dressed senior students grew, talking eagerly among themselves. The elevators to the rooftop inside were absolutely thronged. Dee grunted indignantly when someone walked by and pushed her to get closer to the front of the line. She straightened her back and her jaw hardened.

"Wow, I just love it when people push and shove. It's so ladylike and mature. Next person that touches me, I'm going to punch in the face." Her tone was very calm and level, but she projected well enough for the crowd in the immediate vicinity to hear. Dean snorted with laughed and shot Sam a thumbs up. Sam just looked mildly impressed and took a step back from her, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. She grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry guys. I'm usually nicer, I promise. That was...rude. Sorry. I'm just done. Anyway, guys' elevator is across the lobby. I'll meet you at the top? I'll tell you if I see Patrick anywhere." She winked and squeezed into the next elevator, jam-packed with clamouring young women as even more tried to surge onboard. She waved at them as the door closed, blowing a stray curl out of her face with bemused irritation.

"She's crazy. I kinda like it," Dean chuckled, joining the stream of suit-clad male students as they made their way to the men's elevators. Sam raised his eyebrows but made no comment.

Dee was waiting for them at the top, where the students could finally disperse and breathe a little. Charts of constellations decorated the walls while the carpet was an interesting pattern of stars and planets on a deep blue background. Definitely an observatory. Wide doors channeled the guests into a rough line, going out onto the open rooftop where dinner would be served.

Dean lit up as soon as the smells rising from the buffet-style catered lines flavored the rooftop night air. His eyebrows rose and a grin spread across his face.

"Alright! Texas barbecue, baby. Now we're talking. Sign me up for _that._ Sammy, why can't every hunt have rooftop catering?"

Dee wasn't hungry, so she moved quickly through the line, giggling at Dean piling heaps of pork, garlic bread, slaw, and baked beans to dangerous heights on the plate. Sam was hardly paying attention, scanning the open seating area and crowds for anything amiss. He tapped Dean's shoulder and pointed.

"Patrick is over there at the table by the railing. We should sit close by." He grabbed a water, before following Dee along the narrow walkway connecting the serving area to the seating section and claiming the nearest available table.

"Okay, so what's the game plan?" Dee asked, leaning forward over the table and lowering her voice a little. Sam shrugged.

"We don't really know what to expect, so just stay sharp I guess. I think you were right about the setting though; it's crawling with students and pillars of the college."

Dee nodded in the direction of the wandering faculty who were stopping by all the tables in turn to mingle and offer congratulations.

"Look. There's Dr. Zach. The music director."

All eyes at their table went to Patrick to gauge his reaction. The boy had been bragging about his selection to speak at the graduation exercises to his admirers at the table but when Dr. Zach made his appearance he sat straight up, his gaze tracking the man's movements with rapt attention.

Suddenly he stood up, slowly, his chair scraping across the concrete as it was pushed back with his movement. And without warning, every light on the observatory rooftop went out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: Chapter Twelve, the big showdown! Special thanks to anyone and everyone who's stuck with the story this far. It's been a long, drawn-out ordeal, but here we are! Enjoy!**

...

The shocked murmur around the rooftop accompanied by the nervous giggles of the students served as enough of a cover for Dean and Sam's hurried and urgent conference. Unfortunately, it also served to disguise any sound of movement. Patrick could be anywhere up here; the darkness wasn't complete but the faceless silhouettes and indistinct shapes were an effective camouflage.

"Great, just great," Dean growled, getting up quickly and reaching for the demon knife hidden in his waistband. Sam was right beside him, muscles tensed and primed for action, bringing a flask of holy water out of the breast-pocket of his blazer. They didn't have to wait long.

With a rush of air and a sharp cry the dark shape of Patrick ran past them diving toward the poor, clueless song leader who had no warning or expectation of being attacked by a demonic student. Because of the darkness, the boys almost missed their window but Sam threw himself between them, flinging holy water on Patrick's face and beginning to recite the exorcism at a dizzying speed. Dean circled around behind him to close the gap but suddenly with a blast of supernatural energy he went flying, landing hard on a banquet table several yards away and sending it crashing to the ground amongst the screams of increasingly panicked students.

Patrick paused for a moment, shuddering at the name of God, but he didn't writhe or scream like the garden-variety demon when the water hit his skin. His eyes ignited, burning bright in the darkness, a purple so otherworldly and vibrant it made the air around him crackle with electricity. Sam fumbled some of the words; this was definitely not anything they'd encountered before and suddenly he was very much concerned they didn't have the means to deal with it.

Dean was rolling off the half-collapsed table, clutching the demon knife in white knuckles, and lunged again at Patrick, but Dee's scream of " _Dean!"_ had him diving to the side just in time to avoid being severed in half. Fear didn't even take his eyes away from Sam, and the table had risen into the air, hurtling towards Dean with enough force to smash through the brick wall lining the rooftop and plunge to the parking-lot below.

The screams and panic had well and truly set in on the rooftop now; chairs were knocked over, students and faculty tripping over them and each other in the dark, trying to find the exits. Dee climbed on a table, her mouth dry and heart hammering, and yelled over the tumult.

"Hey! Everyone, calm down! This thing feeds on fear, don't let it get stronger!"

Fear twisted Patrick's face into a deranged look of glee.

"I _am_ Fear! Your natural, primal instincts are built on me. You're made to fear, made to dominate. Made to be slaves to the power of pure, diabolical terror. You can't fight your base nature! You're animals. Animals cowering before the slaughter; and that's the only right place."

Fear's hand darted out and took Sam by the throat, cutting off all attempts at the exorcism, which weren't working anyway. Sam dropped the holy water, eyes rolling back and knees weakening as his vision was filled with whatever images of horror Fear was pouring into him. His hands scrabbled weakly at Patrick's grip on his throat, but whatever was going on in his mind was worse.

The purple blazing eyes turned on Dean just as the demon knife plunged into Fear's back. Nothing happened. No sparking, no screams. Patrick calmly reached back with his free hand and pulled the knife out, dropping it to the ground as Dean choked a strangled cry and sank to his knees, hands covering his ears and eyes clenched tight closed to shut out the torments that were clearly inside his head.

Fear's laughter rang across the panic-stricken rooftop...and then paused. He cocked his head, listening, as a single voice began singing amid the chaos.

" _Though this world with devils filled should threaten to undo us…"_

"Who is that?" Fear snarled, a strange shudder wracking Patrick's body almost like a computer glitch. The flaming purple eyes stared over the rooftop in fury.

" _We_ _will not fear_ _, for God has willed His truth to triumph through us…"_

Fear's otherworldly scream of rage shook the brick and shattered all the glass in the vicinity as he let Sam fall to the ground, whirling to locate the singing voice. Sam climbed shakily to his feet, his voice joining the song. He remembered the words from Pastor Jim's old church…

" _The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him. His rage we can endure, we know his doom is sure…"_

Other voices on the rooftop were now joining, people standing in the dark, the song growing stronger, more bold.

Patrick's body spasmed, Fear screaming from inside, fighting to hold onto its vessel yet trying to shrink away from the Presence the song was summoning. With one final surge of its hateful design it leapt at the song leader, the target that had been its gateway into the school, and seized him, dragging him along as it leapt from the roof, determined to take at least two lives before it was vanquished.

Dean and Sam both leapt forward to catch them, Sam's longer arms managing to catch the suit jacket of the song director and halt his fall long enough for Dean to get a better hold on his wrists and brace against what was left of the brick rubble of the wall to pull him back up. Patrick though, with Fear inside him…

" _One little word shall fell him…"_ The song ended and Dee hurried to look over, quickly dialing 9-1-1 for Patrick, who was lying on top of a dumpster several stories below. Dean pulled the phone away from her face and shook his head, pointing down where Castiel was now bending over the boy, repairing any injury he had with a touch of his hand to his forehead.

"CAS! Is the boogey-man still in there?" Dean hollered.

"No, any sign of the spirit has vanished. This is just an empty vessel that appears to have diabetes."

"Where've you been this whole time?" Sam shouted down, irritation immediately replacing the adrenaline rush of the fight. Castiel appeared beside him on the roof in a whoosh of wings that made Dee jump and back up a step.

"I was merely waiting to be of assistance with my healing ability; I assumed you would need them."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. And the helpful, boy-scout attitude, Cas," Dean grumped, blinking as the lights on the rooftop flickered back on, illuminating the mess of broken glass, food all over the ground, tables and chairs knocked every direction, and a few hundred stunned students.

The trembling music director looked at them both in amazement, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath enough to speak.

"Who...who are you?"

Dean winked, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

"Pastors Harding and Coven. Doin' the Lord's work."

…..

"So...what exactly happened back there?"

The faculty had decided to immediately evacuate and close down the rooftop pending investigation, but all of the seniors and banquet guests were given free meal vouchers for the Palms, the eat-in restaurant on campus. The place was flooded with students and the noise level high as everyone talked about what they'd just seen and experienced. It was a total rumor-mill, to be honest, but Sam couldn't blame them. It wasn't like there was any other type of news available to the kids in this place.

Dee, Sam, and Dean shared a table in the front corner by the window, and the burgers, pizza, and yes, a salad for Sam had just arrived. Dee looked up to see both of the Winchesters looking at her expectantly and grinned, secretively, taking a slice of pizza with hands that were still a little shaky.

"We know you did something," Sam probed. "Nothing we were doing had any effect."

"Yeah, and in our line of work we kinda need to know. Where'd the freakin' song come from?" Dean asked, taking a monstrous bite out of the burger but not breaking eye contact. She tried not to giggle at that.

"It's just...well, I know you're not really into this kinda thing. But it's a verse that came into my head. Something about how God inhabits the praise of His people...and you guys said that other verse the ghosts were telling you about said we needed the Spirit of Power, Love, and a Sound Mind to fight Fear. I just...I thought if God was in a song, then it was worth a shot. I guess it was."

"Huh," Sam said, a tiny smile on his lips like there was when he thought something was fascinating and was trying to work through all the implications. Dean was more straight forward.

"Who'd have thought a Big Bad like that is vulnerable to musicals," he said. "Pass me a napkin."

And that was that. The rest of the meal was relaxed, playful banter, with some of Dee's friends joining them. Friends who knew about the whole deal and were "in on it," as Dee liked to say. They also, -but everyone tactfully avoided the subject- were huge fans of the boys. It made for a really...interesting, exciting night, made even better by the knowledge that graduation was only a few short days away. They could leave this school behind for good.

While Dee's friend Birdie was giving Sam some tips about lore she'd learned in her own digging -strictly academic, she wasn't into hunting but wanted to help- and Dean was saying goodbye to Caty, who was heading out with her boyfriend, Dee slipped a salt-shaker off the table into her purse. Just to be on the safe side; never hurt to be prepared. She paused; there was a napkin in there...with Dean Winchester's number and the word "Dinner".

She knew he'd probably blow out of town before she got a chance to see him again. But she was sure as heck gonna hang onto that napkin. Forever.


End file.
